


Fairy Tales

by GremlinGirl



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU - Modern Day Ireland, Brief Acts of Violence Against A Moth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Fae & Fairies, Gardens & Gardening, Grieving, Injury, Isolation, Jane Eyre - Freeform, Loss, M/M, Magic, Mentions of some child abuse, Millicent - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Superstition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinGirl/pseuds/GremlinGirl
Summary: Armitage Hux's mother passed away, leading him to return to his childhood home in order to sort her belongings. He hasn't seen her since he was a child, but being in the old cottage home brings back memories of stories she used to tell him, of fairy tale creatures that lived in the garden. Meeting with a strange man who claims to have known his mother when she was alive. Hux must cope with his loss and the feelings of guilt that come with it, while learning to come to terms with how true the stories his mother told him might be.





	Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [technorat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/gifts).



“Trickster creatures,” his mother had whispered to him, her strong Irish accent like a thick honey over bread, sweet to the ear. “Sprites they are. And they’ll take you for all you’re worth.” As she had laid out a bowl of sugar water on the windowsill overlooking her backyard, she’d told him these tales. And a beautiful yard it was, full of flowers and vegetables that she grew herself. She had something of a green thumb in her, one that Armitage had never really inherited. 

 

But the tales, the stories, they were what Armitage lived for as a young one. Sitting on a stool in the kitchen as she’d baked her bread or prepared a nice stew for dinner, and she’d prattled on about all sorts of things. Telling him of the fae trickers that lived in the garden, the will-o-the-wisps that floated in the trees, and the slumbering beasts that laid beneath the earth waiting for the awakening. There were stories of ghosts and spirits and banshees that shrieked. Armitage had loved them all, listening to her fervent imagination. 

 

His mother had put a bowl of sugar water on the windowsill each night before sealing the latch to keep the draft out of her modest dwelling. She’d bent to his level, cupping his cheek. “You must appease the fae, my boy. Or they’ll not be too pleased with you. If you give a little, they tend to repay you in kind. Success, happiness, love, whatever you want, dearie.” Armitage, a little imaginative himself as a boy, had believed her every word. 

 

Until he’d been ripped from her arms. His father had taken custody of him when he was seven, and he’d never see his mother again. Truly, it was the thing he regretted more than anything else in his life. His father had been a tyrant of a man, unwilling to even yield a modicum of control. When he’d found out about the illegitimate child he’d sired, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. Not Brendol Hux, no. And so, Armitage, still a child, had been shoved into boarding school and risen with an iron fist. Quite literally at points, if he ventured out of line, Brendol was known to lay a beating down. 

 

Word of his mother’s death had come to Hux at the age of thirty-four. Working at a law firm in the city of London, he’d been called to the lobby where a man was waiting with a package, detailing his mother’s will. She’d left everything to him. And he hadn’t even returned to see her before she died. Alone, in that ramshackle place, he had not thought to go back to her. He’d only been seven years old, and his father had drilled into him that she was not worth his time. But the years of conditioning broke that day, and he’d cried for the first time in twenty years, hunched over his desk as he read her will. The letter she’d written for him, on her deathbed. 

 

Dear Armitage, 

My beloved son. I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I don’t write it in the same way. I am giving you everything, because it’s all I have. I have missed you every day, loved you every day. Come back to your home. See it and remember. You probably hardly think of me, and that is fine. But I hope you will remember me, remember my stories, and carry them in your heart forever. 

With love, mum

 

He’d taken off from work and taken a flight out. His mother lived far outside any city, and he ended up walking along the road back to her house, the soggy, dirty lane getting mud on his boots. He’d splattered up the front walkway, freezing in awe at the house. It was brightly colored, a paste green, with whimsical chimes and decorations in the front yard. In the backyard, the garden still bloomed, not having long enough to rot without her care. Inside, it was very quaint and comfortable. What he’d remembered, or had his father convince him of, as a decaying old building with leaky roofs and squeaking floorboards was actually a well taken care of home. Just isolated. That’s all. He left his bags by the door.

 

Walking to the kitchen, Hux looked around with a deep ache in his chest. It was just how he remembered, even though it had been so long ago. Going to the counter, he slid up onto a stool, the very same stood he’d sat on while she’d chopped up vegetables for her stew. The smell of something cooking had always filled the room up, leaving his belly rumbling. She’d tease him for it, asking if he wanted a wee taste before it was all finished. She’d give him sliced apples or pears to snack on while the dinner cooked. Everything she made had always been hearty and filling. Unlike the weak broths he’d been given at his father’s, barely anything to sustain him. He wondered if he’d have a larger frame if he’d stayed with his mother, perhaps packed on a little more weight, been a little bit healthier. 

 

He glanced toward the window, staring out into the garden for a moment as he walked over. He had spent a lot of time in front of this window, as well. All the time in the world, really. Sitting and watching his mother outside, tending to the garden and looking up to wave at him. He’d usually be sitting there with a bowl of soup for lunch, or maybe it had been when he was ill. The memories usually start to run together at this point, making him uncertain about if he truly remembered something correctly or not. It had been such a long time ago, and he’d been so young. Hux looked down at the counter, and he saw a small envelope with his name written on it. His name. Armitage. 

 

Lifting it, he turned it ‘round and opened up the top. The simple page inside was clearly a letter, and in his mother’s scribbly handwriting. The scrawl on the page was small and careful, a woman who considered every word before she marked it into the page. She was the type to know that ink was permanent, everlasting. And she’d considered each letter, probably knowing it had been the last thing her son would ever have of her. A home and a letter. That was it. That being said, the letter only contained one line, one sentence. In her weak state, it was probably all she could manage there at the end. 

 

Remember to appease the fae. 

 

His hope for some sort of true goodbye was slashed, of course. But, really, it wouldn’t have mattered what the letter said. He never would have gotten his goodbye, no matter what he’d done. Simply for the fact that he selfishly had stayed away, rather than returning when he should have. After university, after graduating, after getting his first job, his first apartment, his promotion. So many milestones, and he hadn’t so much as written a letter home. How she could have possibly loved him for all these years, he didn’t know. Hux knew that he didn’t deserve it. But this...it felt entirely hopeless. It was the final nail in the coffin, the final breath his mother had left for him. And it was a stupid note, reminding him of something that didn’t matter. The bowls full of sugar water. The fae that lived in the flowers. He turned away from the window in disgust, leaving the letter there without a thought. 

 

He didn’t know what he was going to do with the house. Living here permanently wouldn’t be feasible. He had a job and a life back in London that he didn’t plan to leave. Perhaps he’d hire a caretaker, someone from a nearby town to look after the place. The idea of someone else living here, walking where his mother walked, sleeping in her bed, he couldn’t handle it. He wanted to preserve this place somehow, to leave it as a monument to her life. She hadn’t done anything amazing, hadn’t changed the world, but she had loved him. And Hux hadn’t ever been loved the same way since. Not by his father. Not by coworkers. He had no friends to speak of, and he didn’t speak to what remained of his family. His father, retired and living out his days in a townhouse, made it very clear that they weren’t to speak. Hux found himself wondering if his mother had died alone, or if anyone had been there to hold her hand. He should have been there. He had failed. 

 

Hux picked up his bags and went upstairs, finding the bathroom and the two bedrooms intact. It was too hard to look in his mother’s room for long. The big, empty bed seemed to remind him of her loneliness. It was cold. A draft. Peeking his head in again, he shivered a bit. The window was open. Frowning, he strode in, grabbing the two sides to swing them shut again, but he paused when he saw a rather large bug sitting on the inward side of the glass. It was a moth of some kind, he was sure, its wings black and red. Disgusted, Hux grabbed for the first thing he could find, an ornamental decoration with a flat base, and he prepared to squish the bug. He pinched the wing, but it took flight.

 

He could see that it was hurt, the way it dipped as it tried to fly, but the pest still managed to outmaneuver him, no matter how he swiped out with his chosen weapon. Hux whipped around, turning back and forth a few times before he realized the disgusting thing had given him the slip. Angry, he dropped his weapon back onto bedside table and turned to seal the window shut. Two latches, one and the top and one at the bottom, and he did wonder what hapless fool had left it open. There were probably a million other bugs inside the house. He’d have to have the place fumigated. 

 

He left the bedroom, and continued down the hallway. His old bedroom. Hux wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside, but it wasn’t this. His mother hadn’t preserved the bedroom, rather...it seemed that she had expected his arrival. The walls were no longer baby blue as he remembered, but had been painted a nice shade of white, and there was a double bed. A bookshelf occupied a space on the wall, and he noticed that there were three shelves empty, assumedly for him to fill with his own collection. A desk sat nearby, and he sighed softly. She really had expected him to come home at some point. The room was nice, but it wasn’t overdone. His mother had left it to be personalized by him, but he found it very striking that it looked nearly identical to his own room at home, just as empty and without decor. 

 

Hux dropped his bags to the floor, rubbing at his arms as he fought back the chill. It did seem to invade the house, and he didn’t think it was totally the fault of one open window. Sitting out here, away from the city, with what seemed like no central heating, the home probably did get very cold when the temperatures dropped. He knew there was a fireplace in the living area downstairs, and if he stayed longer than a week, he’d have to figure out how to use it. The fact that he was considering staying more than a week was surprising enough, and Hux decided not to think of it for awhile. 

 

Looking out the window, the sky was beginning to turn grey and he could almost smell the rain that would be falling pretty soon. Night would be there before he knew it. He’d come here to take stock of the house, to figure out what to do with it, but he would settle in for the night and start going through things in the morning. He was exhausted from traveling as much as he had, and nothing seemed worth spending time on except for getting ready for bed. 

 

And he did ready for bed. Changing from his boots into a warm pair of wool socks, flannel pajama pants, and a big sweater that hung largely around his thin frame. By the time he’d tucked himself under the warm comforter, Hux felt cozier than he had in a long time. He knew the house would catch a harsh chill in it once the sun was completely set and the rain started in, but he was prepared to deal with that. The one thing he regretted was how his mother must have suffered with them on her last days. Hux tried not to to think of that as he turned away from the window and tried to sleep. Eventually, he heard the raindrops pitter-pattering on the rooftop, and he let out a hushed sigh. The sound of rain eased his rushing thoughts, like a lullaby to a crying babe, and he fell asleep soon after. 

 

Morning came. Hux jerked awake, eyes feeling sticky as he pried them open. The bed was warm, and he could still hear rain pattering on the roof above his head, just a light drizzle compared to how quickly it had come down the night prior, loud pounding on the roof that turned into a staccato rhythm. Now, it was a very soft plink, plink, plink from above. 

 

Throwing back the covers, Hux rose from bed and padded blearily across the floor to peer out the window. The sky was overcast and grey, and the garden looked absolutely soaked. He sighed, moving away from the window so he could pulled his boots on, tucking the pajama pants down inside. The halls were cold, like whatever heat inside had been sucked out through the cracks in the walls, and Hux ducked back in to grab his coat to throw it on. Glancing in his mother’s room, Hux stopped dead in his tracks. The window was open again. 

 

Groaning, he walked in and grabbed the window, pushing it closed against the cool wind that swept inside. He closed the latch again, grunting a little bit. He looked to the windowsill and the floor, all wet from the rain which had been let inside. Observing the latch, Hux felt annoyance rise up in his throat. There must have been something wrong with it, not strong enough to keep closed against the wind. He’d have to make a list of things to repair, starting with this window. Leaving the bedroom, Hux pulled the door shut, just in case the window opened again. The cold would hopefully remain trapped inside. 

 

Downstairs, he found himself filling a glass at the sink, checking in the refrigerator for any foodstuffs. Of course, there was nothing there, save for a clearly spoiled carton of milk, which Hux summarily threw out before it could stink up the house, and he tied the trash bag up and hefted it from the bin to take it out. Surely there would be a bin somewhere on the property. Throwing the hood of his coat up, he marched outside into the misty rain, trekking across wet grass and muddy patches to drop the trash off in the waste bin at the side of the house. If he stayed out here, a car would have to factor into life somehow. 

 

Shaking off the water under the roof’s overhang, Hux was sure to stomp the worst of the mud from his boots before he stepped back inside the house. He shivered, tossing off the coat and hanging it on one of the rungs on the door. The chill in the house had to let up soon, he thought. As soon as the cloud cover broke up. If the cloud cover broke up. He knew the weather tended to swing toward the grey end of the spectrum out here. Finding some tea bags in a cupboard and a kettle beside, he filled it up with water and settled it on the stove to heat. 

 

That’s when he turned and saw the again. It was sitting on the counter, almost like it was looking at him, judging him. Hux slowly, incrementally slowly, lifted his foot and slid his boot off. He raised it up, sneaking closer to the counter before slamming it down atop the bug. Mud splattered from the bottom of the sole all over the countertop and his sweater, and the moth fluttered off, dipping and turning as if it were drunk. On the warpath, Hux went after it, swinging his shoe like a madman. The amount of anger he exhibited toward this damn bug was hardly appropriate, nor was it explanable in any rational way, but he still wanted to see it dead. It was an invader. Uninvited. 

 

He stopped swinging the shoe around wildly inside the living room, looking around. He did a three hundred and sixty degree turn, but found it had evaded him somehow. One second it had been right in front of him, the next it wasn’t. Chest heaving with effort, Hux made one final look around the room, checking the mantel, the bookcase, and under the coffee table, but the bug had well and truly vanished. “You’ll die in a week anyway,” he muttered, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was talking to a bug. 

 

An injured moth couldn’t survive while cooped up in the house, really, so he didn’t have to worry about it so much. Hux went back to the kitchen, wetting a rag under the facet to clean up the mud he’d splattered all over the place, working his foot back into the boot again. Huffing out in annoyance, he tried to scrub the mud off his sweater as well, but it seemed like a lost cause at this point. He needed to change anyway. Alone or not, he wouldn’t tolerate walking around in pajamas all day. 

 

The kettle screamed at him, and Hux turned the stove off. Once he had a steaming mug of tea prepared, Hux trudged back up the stairs. He cupped the mug, allowing warmth to soak into his palms as he headed into his bedroom to change. Outside the window, he could still see rain falling. And a soft haze had fallen over the area, a mist risen from the earth to swallow the world. He stared out the window as he changed out of the muddy sweater and buttoned up a pair of jeans, thinking of the stories his mother had told him. 

 

“The fae, they dance in the mists,” she had said, setting with him on the back porch. Sometimes she’d drag a stool out there and sit with Armitage on her lap, holding him as they watched the rain and the mist. The grey weather hadn’t dampened her spirits, and truly, she’d seemed to thrive in it. Perhaps that’s why she liked to live here so much, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the Irish countryside. “Armitage, you can sometimes see them, but you have to know how to look. Only the true believers can see the fae for what they really are.” 

 

“What do you mean, Mama?” he’d asked, innocently enough. He’d probably been playing with her hair, perhaps clumsily braiding a strand. It was the same red as his, more orange in direct sunlight. Unlike him, she’d had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. 

 

“The fae are all around us, always. But only the people who know to look for them can tell. Where one person sees their magic, another may view a spider, or a bird, a flower, a butterfly. They blend with nature to protect themselves, and so they can more easily play tricks on the unsuspecting.” She had tickled him. “So keep your eyes open, Armie, or you’ll be fooled by the tricksters!” 

 

They had laughed. Hux hadn’t laughed in years. He turned away from the window, pulling the boots back on before reaching for his tea. His hand found nothing. Sure that he’d set it on the desk, he turned around and looked about the room in confusion. His eyes finally spotted the mug, white with yellow flowers hand painted on the side, settled cozily atop the bookcase. Hux stared at it for several seconds, unsure he was really seeing it up there. The bookcase was taller than him. By at least a foot. It was tall enough that he’d have to step on a ladder to reach the books on the top shelf. He couldn’t have put his mug up there. 

 

A chill hit him, and Hux wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his arms through the long sleeve shirt he’d thrown on. Turning, he looked out into the hallway for a moment, peering around the corner towards the stairs, and his mother’s room. The door was open. He was sure he’d shut it tight this morning, in case the window came open again. Looking back up at his tea mug, Hux huffed out a breath. This was ridiculous. He grabbed the chair from under the desk and dragged it over, climbing atop it. Grabbing the mug, he was about to step back down when his eyes spotted that moth again. Sitting there, as if it belonged, looking almost smug. How a moth could look smug was a question for another day. 

 

Angry, Hux swiped at the bug, watching it lift off from the bookshelf and take flight again. It didn’t make it far, and Hux watched it fluttering toward the ground. He left his tea on the shelf and jumped off the chair with a thud, stalking after the bug like a predator, lifting his boot to squash it when the thing settled on the floor. However, at the last second, he paused. Slowly, Hux set his foot down and glared at the disgusting bug that had no business being in his home. The wings lifted, but it couldn’t seem to get enough strength to lift itself off the ground. The right wing was bent in an odd shape, he thought. He’d done that. Well, no business being cruel. Hux should just kill it. But he couldn’t. Even after chasing the damn thing all over the house, he couldn’t bring himself to kill it. Instead, he went downstairs and got a rag, which he brought back to the spot, and he carefully lifted the bug in the rag. 

 

It fought with him, fluttering it’s good wing, and Hux hissed at it. “Stop fucking doing that. I’m bloody trying to help, you stupid pest.” He unlatched the window and slung it open, then released the moth outside. He watched it flutter once before unceremoniously falling to the ground, twirling as it went, a small spiral of black and red wings all the way to the grass below. “Damn it.” Hux stayed there, hanging his head out the window like a fool, staring down at the bug. As if he could have done anything differently. 

 

Huffing a bit, Hux pulled his head back inside and shut the window. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. The bug would die on the lawn, and he wouldn’t have to clean up a mess. He dropped the rag on the bed and rubbed at his face a few times, grimacing. The start of the day had been absolutely spectacular. He was here to sort through his mother’s things, find out what he needed to keep and what he didn’t, but he’d spent the great majority of the morning hunting down a bug and making tea. With the thought of his tea, Hux climbed back up onto the chair, meaning to grab it from the top of the bookshelf again, but he found...it wasn’t there. Hux whipped his head around, and the mug was sitting exactly where he’d thought he left it earlier, on the the desk. 

 

Considerably freaked, Hux left his bedroom, holding onto the tea mug in both hands as he walked down the hallway. He pulled his mother’s bedroom door shut carefully, then headed back down the stairs again. It was all pointless, he thought. He’d stay another night, then head back into town so he could try and get out of here. There was no point in sticking around. He’d leave the house to crumble, since it was clear that any decision he made would feel wrong. No caretaker, no renting the place out, and he certainly wasn’t going to move here. Hux sat on the couch tiredly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to stay in a home with teleporting tea mugs and self-opening doors and windows anyway. 

 

The more he thought on it, the more ridiculous it all seemed. The opening door, he’d probably forgot to close it, and the window had certainly been blown open by the gale winds the night prior. And the mug had probably never been on top of the bookcase in the first place. He’d probably seen something that looked like a mug, or maybe had been hallucinating. Being here in the middle of nowhere felt...liminal in a way. The passage of time seemed stunted, and Hux had walked all the way out here in the cold. Perhaps he was coming down with something. He placed a hand on his forehead curiously, but feeling for his own fever was pointless. Standing up, he took to the stairs again. 

 

Hurriedly, he dug through the bathroom cupboard, searching curiously for thermometer. He found one underneath a small box, shaking his head fondly at the disorganized nature of the cupboard itself. It spoke of a person that spent more time thinking of fairy tales than organizing their life, and though Hux would detest the trait in anyone else, the memories of his mother seemed richer somehow with evidence of her ditzy nature. He wiped the end off with a rag and turned it on, actually surprised when the display lit up, and he settled the tip under his tongue, reaching out to run some water in the sink. 

 

His temperature was normal, a perfect 37 C, and Hux sighed and set the device aside. Bending down over the sink, he began to wash his face with warm water from the tap, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. The ends of his hair were dampened, and he smoothed a wet hand back through the strands, trying to get them to stay in place. He hadn’t brought any sort of gel to hold it back, thinking he would only be here for a day or two. And he did plan to leave in the morning. There was nothing to be done here. 

 

Turning off the sink, Hux made to leave the bathroom, but he paused at a strange noise from downstairs. A brief knocking. His brow scrunched up, and he quickly made his way down the stairs and to the front door, leaning around to peer through the front window beside it. Nobody was there, which only made his brow furrow all the more. However, the knocking came again, and Hux realized it was behind him. He made his way into the kitchen, staring at the back door curiously. He hadn’t locked it, so he supposed he was lucky that the person hadn’t just let themselves in. But who would be walking this way, in this weather, and come up to the back side of the house? Had they come from the fields beyond the garden? 

 

He wouldn’t get any answers standing around and contemplating. Hux walked forward and swung the door open. Nothing. He stared out across the garden, confused, seeing no signs of life, save for the plants. There was the Aspen tree at the edge of the garden, and he wondered if someone might hide behind it. A child playing a practical joke. That theory would work if there was anyone close enough to be considered neighbors. There weren’t. Annoyed, Hux shut the door and locked it, going to sit on the stool at the counter. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, already entirely exhausted by this place, and he hadn’t been here but a few hours. Not even a full day, yet. 

 

Turning toward the counter, Hux stilled when he noticed the bug. Again. The moth with the broken wing, teetering across the counter toward him. It walked almost drunkenly, swaying back and forth and seemingly barely able to crawl. He wondered if he’d damaged the legs as well. Hux stood up, moving away from the counter and looking around for something to squash the poor thing. At this point, extending its life would just be cruel. He moved over to the row of cupboards and pulled them open. Looking through, he paused when he saw a familiar piece of dining ware. 

 

The old bowl was blue, like the sky, and on its side were painted branches with green leaves and red seeds. Hux touched it gently, pulling it down from the cupboard as he looked it over. It was his mother’s sugar bowl. What she’d set out each night. To feed the fae. Hux held it in both hands, smoothing his fingers around the rim slowly. He wondered where she’d gotten it, if it was something passed down through her family. Perhaps. He’d never know now. The time to ask these questions had passed. 

 

Hux looked over at the moth, which had gone still against the counter. “Did you finally give up on me?” he asked, walking over and setting the bowl down. He gently touched the moth on the back, and it didn’t move. Frowning, Hux carefully settled his hand down in front of it, and he lifted the moth up and went back toward the door. He walked out into the yard, looking about the garden for a moment. He should just go throw the dead body away, but that seemed a bit callous. Just as he was about to drop it on the ground again, the good wing lifted slowly. He saw it moving. Hux brought it close to him, trying to see exactly what the damage was, if he could fix it somehow. As if he knew anything about moths. 

 

“I don’t know how to fix you,” he said, frustrated. “You shouldn’t have been in my mother’s house to start off with. And what’s worse? I’m talking to you. As if you could understand me.” Hux rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his free hand, furiously. He looked around, peering through the misty rain. Over beside the door, a few feet away, was the windowsill his mother had always put the sugar water out on. He walked over, feeling the mud around the house sloshing about, probably splashing on his pants, and he dropped the bug onto the wood grain with a sigh. “You’ll probably die in a couple hours. But at least I tried, right?” 

 

Hux went back inside, shivering all over, and he slammed the door shut with a huff of annoyance. He really didn’t like dealing with injured bugs that somehow kept getting back into the house. The little cottage house was so old and empty, that the wood must knock together somehow. The doors weren’t level, and they swung open on their own. Maybe it wasn’t the same bug at all. Maybe there was a moth infestation. As much as Hux wanted this all to be true, simple answers and all, something in the back of his mind prodded at him. There was more going on here than just an old house resettling, but he didn’t want to think about it. 

 

The bowl sat on the countertop, and Hux stared at it for a few seconds. After what felt like a small eternity, he went to the cupboard over the stove and found a bag of sugar. It was half full, really, but he still scooped out a few tablespoons into the bowl. Then, he filled it with water at the tap, stirring the spoon through it a few times to try and dissolve the sugar a bit. He cracked the window and slid the bowl out onto the sill, setting it beside the moth which gave a weak flutter of its wings. As if it were acknowledging him. Hux shut the window and put everything away. A logical person didn’t put out sugar water for fairies, and Hux was a very logical person. He considered this a send off to his mother, partaking in one of her closely held traditions. 

 

The rest of the day, Hux spent on the floor in front of his mother’s desk, pulling out paperwork she’d accrued over the years. Tax returns and letters and grocery lists, all that he could have asked for. He was sorting the useful pieces from the sentimental, and the worthless for the bin, and the methodical task of reading over old pages in her careful script had his mind put at ease. As far as he knew, nothing else strange happened, and he found himself still sitting there amid stacks of papers by the time the sun began to set. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still a dim grey, but the light was clearly being sucked from behind the clouds and toward the western horizon. He pushed all the paperwork to the side, some of it going atop the desk, and he stood up. He’d dug an old blanket from the closet, and that was wrapped around him as he made his way back down the stairs. 

 

If it were possible, the downstairs of the home was even colder than upstairs, and he went to the fireplace immediately. He really shouldn’t try and set a fire, but it was so damn cold that Hux figured he didn’t have a choice. It was only late October, and he couldn’t imagine what the weather would be like when winter truly set in. He couldn’t really remember the winters here. All he remembered was spring, happiness, life, and vitality. His mother’s stories, and everything that went along with them.

 

Hux piled two logs from the side of the fireplace into the hearth, and he picked up the matches from the mantle to light them. Soon, an orange glow lit up the room, and Hux sat back, warming his hands with a satisfied sound. His eyes slid shut, and he allowed himself to relax slightly. It hadn’t been a strenuous day, but his eyes were strained from reading, and his neck was stiff. He could use some food and a nice cup of tea, but for now, he was satisfied with just sitting in front of this fire. He thought dimly of how to put it out, but decided to leave that to figure out later. Hux never had to deal with this kind of thing in the city. 

 

Used to the hustle and bustle of London, traffic and sirens and shouting people, drunkards from the pubs and street vendors selling their wares, the silence of the countryside was oppressive in its own right. And he certainly wasn’t accustomed to it. With his ears attuned to the sound of a crackling fire, Hux was sure if he wasn’t so used to noise he would have noticed the small sound breaking the silence around the cottage house. It was a tapping, but not a loud tapping. Certainly not a knocking like earlier, and it was more subtle and innocuous than a book or something falling over. He looked up, around, then toward the kitchen. The tapping came again, and he stood up. Hesitantly, he walked away from the fire and wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders. The wool was warm, and it kept the chill from sinking back in immediately. 

 

Hux looked about, finding nothing that could have made the noise, and he was close to turning back around to seek the warmth of the fire. But, then it came again, soft and gentle. But deliberate, unrhythmic. He slowly looked at the window, blinking a few times. Maybe it was his mother’s bowl. He threw the blanket off, then opened up one side of the window, grabbing the bowl to bring it inside. He didn’t want to have it blown off and broken if the rain started up again. He’d been foolish to leave out something so precious. But, he stopped dead. His eyes alighted on something sitting on the windowsill, beside the bowl. 

 

Shrouded in long, black fabric of some kind, the tiny thing looked...like a person. But it wasn’t a person, because people weren’t that small. And the way it moved seemed lighter somehow, almost airy, its head turning to look up at him. Hux stared, thinking he’d finally snapped and gone mad. The grief had gotten to him. His loss had rattled him to the bone, and now he was seeing things. 

 

The small person-thing stood up, and Hux jerked back from the window and backed up until his hip hit the counter. Wincing, he nearly dropped the bowl. His hand was shaking. Setting it in the sink, Hux reached out to close the window again, but the small thing had moved in the way, standing and staring up at him. It stood about a foot tall, and he really didn’t have a problem seeing the details. Eyes, nose, mouth..all human like, lovely. A doll. Perhaps it was a doll. Where a doll would come from out here was a mystery. Prankster perhaps. As he thought of this, two beautiful red wings unfurled from the back, and the tiny creature lifted up and flew right past him, into the house. Hux stepped back, and his jaw fell open. Moth wings. It was the same wings the moth had bore. Red and pretty. Even bent and damaged in the same way. 

 

Hux watched uselessly as the damaged wing could only take the tiny creature so far, and it crashed landed on his counter. He winced. It looked like it hurt, the crash. Shifting, he moved over and looked down at the tiny person, pretty sure his eyes were just playing tricks on him. It had to be the same moth, somehow back from the dead, haunting him to make him feel guilt for the murder. He frowned at his own train of thought, finding it ridiculous to even give such thoughts room to sprout. The person slowly turned and sat down, looking up at him. 

 

“Hold on,” Hux said, thinking of the first aid kit he’d seen up in the bathroom cabinet. He didn’t know if there was anything to help a person-moth inside, but he had to try. Hurrying, he rushed up the stairs, throwing off his blanket onto the bannister as he went, footsteps thundering as he rushed into the bathroom. Dragging the hefty kit out of the cabinet, he opened up the lid for a second, checking through it. There was gauze, a sling wrapped up in packaging, bandaids, alcohol wipes, burn salve, a few pill capsules in individual cartridges, and aloe lotion. Nothing seemed like it would work for a moth...or a small person, tiny person, whatever. Hux shook his head, taking it back downstairs anyway. 

 

He didn’t find a tiny person sitting on the counter. 

 

There was a man - large and broad, settled on the countertop with his eyes forward, toward the window. He had a mane of beautiful, dark hair falling in gentle curls around his face, long enough to reach just past his shoulders, and his profile was strong and distinct. Hux dropped the first aid kit in shock, jerking when it hit the ground with a clatter. The man glanced over to him, and Hux froze under the intelligent gaze. His face seemed both youthful and aged at the same time, perfectly smooth and pale with a smattering of beauty marks. Black hair contrasted with the alabaster, and Hux felt his jaw opening without a sound to escape it. 

 

“Where is Ms. Quinn?” he asked, and the voice that came from him was shocking in its own right. It was low, baritone, but feathery and light as well. It dipped into shades of shyness, curiosity, and emotionally resonant voice that nearly drove Hux to tears at the question. It was innocent, and he found himself scrambling for an answer befit to it. 

 

“She died,” he said, bending down to gather up the kit again, shoving the roll of gauze that had gone rolling out back in its proper place and rearranging everything else from haphazard to organized. Standing up, he slowly made his way toward the man. “How did you get into this house?” 

 

The man looked down, and Hux let his eyes trail away from his face long enough to take in what he was wearing. It seemed almost like a cloak, black fabric that covered everything below his neck, large and swirling about his ankles, which hung a few inches from the floor. He had one arm folded in front of him, held at about his stomach, and the other was gripping the edge of the counter. The strange man’s fingers were long and just as pale as his face. Though, Hux knew not to question paleness in a place like Ireland. The locals saw the sun maybe twice a year, and his own pallor proved that he was in no place to judge. 

 

Hux stepped closer, still waiting for an answer. The man hadn’t offered one yet. He glanced around for the tiny person, realizing how stupid he’d been to even think it was real. He’d run upstairs, and this man had snuck in his back door. Perhaps he had really known his mother, though. Maybe he had been some sort of company to her during her dying days. “Hello,” Hux said, waving one hand to try and get the large man’s attention. Closer to him, Hux realized just how hulking he was. Wide shoulders were only the start. His body was tall. The fabric covering him, Hux realized, was nearly sheer and dappled with rainwater. His feet were bare, but surprisingly, they weren’t disgustingly muddy. Underneath the sheer covering, he could see tights on the bottom half of his body, and that was enough of a relief. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with an essentially nude man this late at night. 

 

“Sorry,” he said again, looking up, and Hux stopped as those eyes stared daggers right through him. It wasn’t that the expression was angry, but there was something penetrating about how unrelenting the large man’s gaze was. “Did you know Ms. Quinn?” 

 

“She was my mother,” Hux said, setting down the first aid kit. He wrapped his arms around his thin frame, cold and self-conscious. He looked the man over for a moment, his eyes pausing on his arm for a moment. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, recognizing the way he held it. 

 

Those big, honeyed eyes drifted down to his arm and back to Hux again, and he gave a short nod. “Yes. Had a bit of an accident earlier. I was hoping Ms. Quinn would help. I was looking around for her, but...she’s not here.” 

 

“Right, because she died,” Hux said, and he stepped closer to the man. Hux became very aware of just how much taller the man was, from his position atop the counter. He gently reached a hand out, not touching without permission. “I can see if I can help. Do you have a name?” 

 

“Kylo Ren.” He slowly offered his arm, and Hux gently took it, jerking back when the man hissed in pain. 

 

“Okay, calm down, Kylo.” He slowly pulled his arm away from his body, getting him to straighten out his elbow. His fingers moved along the skin, realizing there was swelling near the wrist, and he gave a gentle squeeze to test. Sure enough, Kylo jerked back from him. “It’s probably just a sprain. You should go to the hospital, but I can wrap it up with gauze and put it in the sling here,” Hux said, tapping the top of the first aid kit. “If you want.” 

 

“Okay,” Kylo said, his voice dipping low into what could have been construed as nervousness. The deep baritone notes reminded Hux of nighttime, of deep winds that blew through the tops of trees. Kylo’s voice would fit right in with the sound of clacking branches from the aspen outside. 

 

“My name is Hux, by the way. Armitage Hux,” he said, reaching over for the roll of gauze. Hux hadn’t done anything like this before, and he really was just guessing on what the right thing to do was. He was a lawyer, not a doctor. Sighing, he began wind the gauze around Kylo’s large hand and down along his arm. “You should be more careful, I guess.” 

 

“I know your name. Ms. Quinn talked you.” Kylo stayed perfectly still, and Hux was beginning to wonder if he’d gone a bit mad. Surely, the logical thing to do in this situation wasn’t to help the strange man who had somehow snuck into the house, rather than kicking him out into the cold. 

 

“You knew my mother well?” he asked. 

 

“Yes, she was always here to provide for us. We took care of her in whatever ways we could. Helped her with the garden and kept bad luck from befalling her.” 

 

Hux reached for the sling, taking it out of the packaging and unfolding it, giving Kylo a curious look. He adjusted the strap out to as long as it could go, realizing that this man was large and he would need it. He slipped the strap over his head, then gently guided Kylo’s arm into the sling. “The garden looks as nice as I remember it,” he said, only curious about Kylo’s statement. Right now, he didn’t want to overthink anything. “Who’s we? Your family?” 

 

“Yes.” Kylo nodded, looking down at the sling and sighing a bit. He looked a bit glum. “I wish I had gotten to say goodbye.” 

 

“Me, too,” Hux said, stepping away from the counter. He a cold wind suddenly blew through and into the house, making him shiver. He shut the window, shuddering all over from the cold. “Why don’t you come in and sit by the fire?” he asked, motioning toward the living room. “For awhile. I’m sure that you’re cold.” 

 

Kylo carefully slid off the counter, walking toward the living room without saying a word. Hux found himself watching the dark fabric shift and swirl about his body as he walked, looking almost liquid around his tree-trunk of a body. And he moved lightly, as if floating on a breeze, and Hux actually strained his ears trying to hear the pad of footsteps against the wood floor. Nothing. Kylo was absolutely silent. It was disconcerting, but Hux didn’t want to begin questioning things now. 

 

Nothing had made sense from the moment he got here. But the idea of trying to figure out the set of baffling events was too much for him now. He’d come here to mourn. That’s what he planned to do. And if that meant commiserating with a man he didn’t know, over a woman he barely remembered, then Hux would do that. He wondered if there was any good rum in the house he could drown his sorrows in. Quickly, he walked over and sat beside Kylo, in front of the fire. The flames burned orange, devouring the logs inside. The crackle was comforting, the warmth inviting. 

 

“When did she die?” 

 

The question barely drifted over the sound of the fire, just a whisper in the air, and Hux slowly turned to look at Kylo He was staring down at his lap, legs folded up underneath him neatly, strange garments hanging about his large frame. The light from the fire cast long shadows on his face, and his honey eyes had turned to wells of pure black. Hux swore that his lashes were long enough to brush his cheekbones each time he blinked. Kylo was pretty, and Hux didn’t know how to come to terms with such a large man having such delicate beauty. 

 

“About a week ago. Little less.” Hux shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know exactly how it happened. Old age, in a way, I guess. But, I wasn’t here.” He grit his teeth, looking away. The guilt ate at his spirit again, and Hux tried unsuccessfully to force the feeling down. He hated knowing that he had failed at doing the one thing he should have as a son. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

 

“No.” Kylo shook his head, and Hux watched him from the corner of his eye, watched his curls dance around his head as if they had a mind of their own. “I didn’t, either. I very much liked Ms. Quinn.” He smiled, turning his head toward Hux. “I came yesterday, looking for her. I knew she had been sick, but…” He gently brushed his fingers over the sling. “I never expect you humans to die, but you always do.” 

 

“You humans,” Hux muttered under his breath. “Were you...in the house at some point yesterday? Opening doors and such?” 

 

“Yes.” Kylo’s smile dropped. “Yes. You saw me. You swung a paperweight at me. Then your boot. Then you dropped me out the window.” 

 

Hux let out a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t swing anything at you. I tried to kill a moth that had gotten into the house.” He shifted away, despite the cold air around them. He felt the juxtaposition of the biting chill on his back versus the warmth of the fire on his front. Shivering, he stood and walked to where he’d tossed the blanket over the stairway banister, and he slid it around his shoulders carefully. “But you really shouldn’t just wander into people’s houses. I might have assumed you were an intruder.” 

 

“Well, Ms. Quinn always welcomed me with open arms.” He turned back to the fire, and Hux found himself staring at that distinguished profile again, the orange-red light dancing over his features. He looked healthier in the firelight, almost like he was glowing. “Why aren’t you a Quinn? Armitage Quinn?” 

 

“I took my father’s last name. It’s more stoutly British, I suppose, but it does open a lot of doors.” He slowly made his way back over, not really wanting to sit beside the strange man again. Instead, he settled on the couch and crossed his legs. “What of you? Where does a name like Kylo Ren come from anyway?” 

 

Kylo glanced up, his eyes slowly tracking toward Hux. His head was turned over his shoulder, hair tossed back behind his ear. Hux caught the glint of a piercing against the cartilage before Kylo fixed the curls to cover it again. “I gave it to myself. My true name is none of your concern.” 

 

Hux snorted a bit. “Right. True name.” He looked away, bouncing his leg slightly as he stared at the faded paint on the walls. It was an eggshell blue, but the color had been dampened by years, and there were cracks along the bottom near the foundation. He could fix those up, slap a new coat of paint on, and the place would look delightfully new and fresh again. Just like how he remembered it. Hux had to remind himself that he wasn’t planning on staying very long, once again. The house felt more homely than anywhere else he’d ever lived, and honestly, it was hard not to feel comfortable here. 

 

“You don’t know what I am, do you?” Kylo asked, and Hux gave him a curious look. 

 

“You are the soaking wet man sitting in front of my fireplace,” Hux said, smiling at him a bit. “What more is there to know?” 

 

Kylo shook his head. “No, I come from the garden.” 

 

“Do you now? I suppose you live among the rutabaga? Or do you make your home in the tulips?” Hux let out a chuckle. “Oh, I see. Your one of the tricksters that drink up the sugar water and bring good fortune to those who treat you as honored guests.” He grinned, seeing the flicker of anger across Kylo Ren’s face, and he couldn’t help but to continue goading him. “I hope I’ve done enough to earn your good graces. I wouldn’t want you to put a hex on me.” 

 

“Your mother called us tricksters. She could, because of her kindness. You have showed none.” 

 

“I wrapped your arm up for you, didn’t I?” Hux asked, leaning back with a smug grin on his face. If Kylo was going to insist on this charade for some reason, then he would continue to mock him. Hux could take the superstition from his mother. The idea of her, with the wild locks of red hair and living out in the countryside, completely connected her to the old lore of this place. But Kylo was clearly younger than Hux was. He should not be buying into these tall tales anymore, not even as a practical joke. 

 

“After you caused it!” It was the first time Hux had heard Kylo raise his voice, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Kylo stood up, and Hux was suddenly very aware of just how big he was. He pressed himself back into the cushions, pursing his lips as the grin slid off his face. “I told you, you hit me with that paperweight. Now my wings are bent and my arm is nearly broken. You’re lucky that this is all the damage you caused.” 

 

“That was a moth!” Hux stood up, desperate to not feel so small. At least Kylo wasn’t much taller than him, even if he was double the width. Hux didn’t want this to come to blows, because even in that sling, Kylo would surely win any sort of fistacuffs. “You are not a moth, Kylo. You are a man. A strange, very large, pretty-faced man. But a man all the same. You don’t have wings. You’re not a fairy. You don’t live in my mother’s garden. Now, please, just leave.” 

 

Kylo’s jaw clenched shut, and Hux stared him down. The firelight framed his curls, casting his face into shadows. He could just make out a glint in his dark eyes, the twitch of his lips pulling down in a frown. “You should not speak to me this way.” The ghost of a threat in his words, and Hux had to bite his tongue. He didn’t want to get into a fight. “I don’t understand your doubt. I was sure I saw a believer in you.” 

 

“Well, you thought wrong, Kylo.” Hux stiffened up, trying to make himself taller than he actually was. If he could just get that last remaining inch over Kylo then he would feel a lot better about himself. Less intimidated. Hux didn’t like to be bullied, especially not in a place that he actually owned, by a stranger who had walked in unannounced and uninvited. “I can walk you to the door if you want,” he said, making his stance clear. He wanted Kylo Ren out. 

 

Kylo clicked his tongue. The firelight dimmed and died behind him, and Hux leaned back slightly. Without the warmth, there was a sudden chill in the room, and he gave a curious look to the fireplace, around the large man. Confused, he moved past him and looked down at the smoldering wood, the smokey scent filling the room quickly. Hux whipped back around, wanting to know how in the hell this man had put out his fire, but he found no one there. The living area was empty, the mysterious fellow having trodden off somewhere else. Of course, his footsteps were light, and Hux hadn’t been able to hear anything. “Kylo!” he called, looking over toward the stairs to see if he was there. 

 

Hurrying to the kitchen, he checked that the doors and windows were locked tight, and he made sure the front was locked up as well. Upstairs, he checked every room thoroughly, but no man was hiding anywhere. He even peeked into the wardrobe, though he was quite sure that Kylo’s broad body wouldn’t fit in there. Unnerved, he ended up sitting on his bed and shivering softly. The cold got to him, invading his bones, and eventually Hux had to lay down and climb under the thick duvet. 

 

Night waned on, and sleep evaded him completely. All the lights in the house were off, and he could almost feel the darkness like a living presence. It snuck into the corners, leaving every shadow like an imminent threat. Hux didn’t want to think of the man, or of the way he’d loomed over him. Kylo Ren had been odd, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt Hux. It was hard to imagine how he’d snuck out of the house so quietly, though, and Hux kept coming back to the feeling that he may still very well be in the house, in a place he hadn’t thought to check. 

 

Eventually sleep did creep in on Hux’s mind, as it was wont to do in such situations. Laying in the cold darkness could only end one way, with his eyes sliding closed and unconsciousness overtaking. But Hux didn’t particularly mind, because it gave him a reason to forget all about the strange man. He didn’t dream of Kylo. Rather, he saw his mother, smiling at him. From out in the garden. A rare sunny day. He had a bag in his hand, paper and filled up heavy for his thin arms. He was a child again, and it was a bag of sugar. His mother motioned to him, and Hux slowly went toward her. But as he stepped, the dream changed. Rain poured down around him, and the bag was replaced with the decorative bowl. He held it up, collecting rainwater. Whispers from the garden filled his ears until he woke the next morning. 

 

Jerking up in bed, Hux peered around the room for a moment. He blinked, listening, almost expecting to hear the mummered voices from his dream. But it was quiet. He couldn’t even hear rainfall, and a glance toward the window told him that the downpour had ceased. The sky was light grey, still covered in a thick blanket of clouds, but the sun was beginning to peak through, fighting against the clouds. He got up, changing quickly, and he shoved his boots on. Hux needed to get out of here. This place was absolutely beginning to mess with his head. He didn’t know if the things he’d seen were hallucinations or if he was simply delirious and having waking dreams. 

 

Throwing things back into his suitcase, he clicked the latches into place and headed back downstairs. He flicked lights off as he went, shaking his head slightly at the cracks in the walls. This couldn’t be his problem anymore. He had a life to get back to. He didn’t want to spend it here, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by invasive bastards that believed themselves fairies or other such nonsense. Nothing would get him back to this house, nothing. He’d hire a caretaker when he got back home, do everything over the phone. He was very, very tired of feeling so disconnected. 

 

Hux flipped the lights out in the living room, then headed to the kitchen. He paused, staring at the counter for a long, long time. Sitting on a stool was Kylo Ren, bent over the counter and muttering under his breath. Hux slowly circled around, watching him curiously. The bag of sugar was on the counter, and his mother’s bowl, and between them a line of spilled sugar. And Kylo was, flabbergastingly, separating the grains and counting them. He muttered under his breath, already in the thousands. How long had he been here, counting spilled granules of sugar. 

 

They didn’t speak. Hux just stood with a slack jawed expression, wondering what the hell he’d ever done to deserve this strange man invading his life. Kylo’s eyes flickered to him once, so Hux knew that he knew he was there. But he didn’t even attempt to acknowledge him. Hux wanted to sweep all the sugar off the counter and onto the floor, just to spite whatever silly game this man was playing. Hux was starting to think he might be mentally ill, off his meds, off his rocker. He nearly felt guilty for even considering such a thing, but he’d known people with OCD to have to do such tedious tasks, and there wasn’t really another explanation he could find. 

 

The last grannule was slid into the growing pile, and Kylo breathed out a “four thousand and seventeen” before he leaned back on the stool and visibly relaxed. The tension melted from his face, and a serene look of clear relief melted his expression. Hux stared at him, wanting an explanation but not really knowing how to phrase that kind of question in a way that wouldn’t just piss Kylo off again. He didn’t seem as put-off as he had the night before, but Hux wasn’t about to start a fight this early in the morning. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Hux finally asked, and Kylo’s face turned confused for a moment. 

 

“Oh. Right. You don’t like me.” He picked up the bowl and lowered it to the edge of the bar, and he carefully scraped the sugar granules into the bowl. Carefully, he reached into the bag and lifted a spoon out, scooping a few more spoonfuls of sugar into the water. “I was thirsty,” he said as Hux watched him with pure confusion on his face. “Ms. Quinn didn’t mind if I helped myself to her sugar. Or her flowers. Sometimes I drink the nectar from them.” 

 

“Right,” Hux said, carefully. He didn’t want to do anything to offend Kylo and end up with him trying to put out fires or throw things around the room again. He watched as Kylo slowly stirred the sugar in the bowl, spoon clinking lightly on the edges. “I’m going to hire a caretaker for the house. I’m not sure if I should leave them word about you or not.” 

 

Kylo looked up at him again, curiously. “A caretaker?” 

 

“Yes, someone to look after the place. I’m not...I’m going back to London.” 

 

Kylo frowned at him. “I thought you were going to live here now. Ms. Quinn always said you’d come back someday. She wanted you to.” 

 

“To what? Live here? In the middle of nowhere?” Hux scoffed, unsure if the man was telling the truth or not. “I have a life, a job, in the city. I don’t want to live here for the rest of my life, no cell reception, no connections to the outside world.” 

 

Lifting the bowl with one hand, Kylo placed his lips at the rim, and he tilted it back, drinking it down slowly. Hux watched him, a disgusted expression pulling up his upper lip. He couldn’t imagine just...drinking straight up sugar water. This man really had given himself over to this fairy delusion. He wondered if his mother had truly enabled a clearly disturbed young man, or if he had harassed her into letting him steal her food and such. Hux remembered his mother as being very kind, but surely she hadn’t let herself be bullied into giving up the things she’d worked hard to grow. 

 

“I think you should stay,” Kylo said, setting the bowl back down. He’d drank everything, and Hux gaped at the empty bowl. “You’ll be fun.” 

 

“Fun?” Hux rubbed at his eyes tiredly, shutting them to massage the lids. “Where did you go last night anyway?” he asked. “I just looked up and you were gone.” 

 

“I didn’t go anywhere.” Kylo slid off his stool, quietly taking the bowl to the sink. He began to clean it out, and Hux was surprised that he cared enough to help out. Maybe Kylo had been with his mother for her last few weeks, helping around the house. He’d not known that she had died, but maybe he’d gotten busy with something else. Life happened. It wasn’t like it was Kylo’s job to take care of her. Hux realized he just wanted this to alleviate his own guilt at not being here. He should have been. 

 

“You did,” he said, arguing even though he knew he shouldn’t. “The fire went out, then you were gone. I locked all the doors to make sure you stayed out.” He walked to the backdoor and jiggled the handle, surprised to find that it was still locked. Kylo must have locked it back when he came inside, though Hux wasn’t sure how he’d managed that. “Do you have a key to the house?” 

 

“No. Ms. Quinn never locked her door, so there was no need,” Kylo said. “Like I said, I never left last night. I was angry, so I sat up on your mantle and waited until you’d gone to bed. I figured you’d accept the truth eventually, but I guess I was wrong.” 

 

Hux shook his head. “You need to leave. I’m leaving.” 

 

Kylo paused what he was doing, slowly turning his head and looking at Hux like he’d grown a second head. “You really are planning to go.” 

 

“Yes, that would be why I have the suitcase,” he said, thumping it against his leg. “Now, leave, okay? I need to go to the city and see if I can get cell reception to call the airport and book my flight. You need to go to the hospital and get that arm checked out. I’m not a doctor, remember? You should probably see someone about it.” 

 

“My arm will be fine,” Kylo said, seemingly wanting to argue with Hux at every step. “And you can’t just leave!” His face twisted up, and he shut off the water in the sink and leaned forward on the counter, peering out the window. Hux watched him curiously. “What about the garden? Who’s going to tend it? It’s already time to pluck the ripened harvest. Your mother worked hard on keeping her garden well tended. You wouldn’t just leave it this way, would you?” 

 

Hux scowled at the ridiculous man. “I’m not going to stand here and let you guilt trip me about what I can or can’t do with my mother’s property.” He brought his wrist up to check the time, scowling to himself. He needed to head in to town and try and see if he could catch a bus back to the airport. His mind was running in circles; fighting with this man wouldn’t do anything considering that he was completely delusional. Sitting in the kitchen as if he had a right to be here. 

 

“You are nothing like your mother.” 

 

Hux looked up, finding a set of dark eyes glowering at him. Kylo’s face was set in a disgruntled expression, full lips nearly pouting as he stared. And those eyes...they pierced through Hux as if he were not even there. Like a powerful wind knocking him back, but he didn’t want to give in to some insane person. “No, I’m not. I’ve never claimed to be,” Hux said, “But you have no right to make those calls, those judgements. You don’t know me, and you don’t know anything about my life.” 

 

“You were taken away from her,” Kylo said, and his face softened a bit. “I know that. I know that she fought hard to get you back. Men in suits would come and go, and there would be papers for her to sign, money exchanging hands. She begged and prayed to whoever would listen to get you back, but you never did show up again.” He tilted his head, and Hux watched his curls topple over each other, dark black against his pale skin, falling almost like liquid down his shoulder. “She missed you everyday.” 

 

“My father,” Hux said, “took me as a young child. I had no say in it. This was not my fault. Had it been my choice, i would have been raised here, even with her wild superstitions.” 

 

“But you haven’t been a child in a long time. Why didn’t you come back? Once you could?” 

 

Hux clenched his free hand into a fist, glaring down at the counter. He could have swung a fist at Kylo Ren, if he wasn’t genuinely unsure that the man wouldn’t snap and turn violent right back at him. The nerve, to ask him such a question, but it still shot Hux straight through to the most vulnerable part of his soul. He felt split open, like the humanity his father had beat into a small crevice of his heart was starting to leak out into the rest of himself. “I was...busy,” he said, lamely. 

 

“Too busy for your mother?” Kylo asked. “She was dying! Everyday, she got worse and worse and worse, and all she wanted was to see you!” 

 

“Shut up! Shut up!” Hux tossed his suitcase down onto the floor. His eyes turned harder, moisture gathering over the steely color, seafoam green and glassy. “I was busy! My life - everything I’d ever worked for - was back in London. I never got a call, a letter, anything! I didn’t know she was sick. I didn’t know until a man showed up at my office and delivered her last words to me. You have no right to judge me! No one does!” He lifted a shaky hand, surprised at himself for snapping so easily. Rubbing at his eye, he swept away salted tears before they could fall. 

 

Kylo gripped onto edge of the sink’s basin, watching him with eyes that were both too old and too young for his face. His gaze slowly dropped, and Hux looked away from him in exasperation. He stood there, sniffling in horrified mortification, hating to cry in front of a stranger. The heavy silence between them dragged, broken only by Hux’s ragged breathing as he tried not to truly sob. He didn’t think his fragile ego could handle that, not when the man across from him was so truly baffling. 

 

Hux didn’t expect an arm to wrap around him. He jerked at first, whipping his head around to find Kylo pressing up against his back. His arm was tightly wound around Hux’s waist, and eventually, he allowed himself to be reeled into the embrace. He couldn’t return it, finding the sentimentality disturbing at best, but he also didn’t want to fight it. Kylo’s forehead came to rest on the back of his head, and he felt long hair tickling his neck and landing on his shoulders. Kylo gave him a squeeze, and Hux finally broke. 

 

The tears didn’t stay in his eyes, no matter how hard he fought them, and he felt them racing hotly down his cheeks and dribbling off his face. He was truly stunned at how much he could cry, when he hadn’t in so many years. Perhaps these emotions had dug a well in his chest, and he was just now discovering the aqueduct within him. Kylo’s thick arm didn’t leave him, and he thought he felt the brushing of a gentle kiss against the back of his neck, but he chalked it up to more of Kylo’s hair rather than that. It was embarrassing to break down in front of someone else, and Hux would try to make sure this never happened again. Even if it didn’t feel as thought Kylo was judging him. 

 

Hux turned around, and he shoved himself firmly against Kylo’s shoulder, his face buried against the strange, sheer fabric that he wore. It was soft against his cheeks, and absorbed his tears easily. After a moment, he found that he’d been leaning directly into the man’s injured arm, and Hux quickly moved back. “Ah, sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said, scrubbing at his face. He couldn’t make eye contact. “Did I hurt you?” 

 

“No.” Kylo’s fingers suddenly lifted from the small of his back, and Hux felt them brush on his cheek a moment later. His eyes finally lifted, looking to Kylo nervously. The emotion he found welling in those eyes could have made him weak again, the openness wasn’t something he was used to. “I didn’t realize…” Kylo’s lip twitched into a frown, and he stepped back somewhat unsurely. His fingers moved away from Hux’s face, and he turned back toward the counter and the sink again, staring down into the basin with a conflicted look on his face. “You are not what I thought you were, not what I expected, but I can’t seem to hate you for it.” 

 

Hux gave him an exasperated look, unsure what Kylo meant by all of that. Sometimes, he spoke nothing but gibberish, and Hux was expected to figure out what the hell he was saying. “I...usually don’t cry on people I’ve just met,” he said after a moment, then rolled his eyes. “Oh, what am I supposed to say?” 

 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

 

“No, I do. I mean…” Hux grunted, feeling a thickness in his throat. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he knew it was from the tears he’d shed. They were drying on his face, leaving him with warm, splotchy skin. He reached up, scrubbing at his cheeks unhappily. “I don’t break down like that, okay? It’s embarrassing. It doesn’t happen that often. Ever. Just recently.” 

 

“Your mother just died. You should cry. I shouldn’t have...said what I did.” 

 

“No, you’re not listening. Men don’t cry like that. It’s pathetic.” He ground his teeth together, feeling that Kylo Ren was being stubborn on purpose, just to antagonize him and make this all the more embarrassing. 

 

“Men don’t cry?” Kylo’s face warped, his eyebrows furrowing together, and Hux could have slapped him. 

 

“Oh, please.” Hux gave an exasperated eye roll before bending down to pick up his suitcase. He set it up on the bar. “As if you weren’t raised the same as I was. Men don’t cry, especially men of action and consequence, those who do something worthwhile with their lives. You know this just as well as I do.” He wouldn’t believe otherwise. 

 

“You’ve just lost your mother. You should be allowed to cry. If I lost mine...I….” He seemed stuck there, and Hux glanced over to see Kylo staring out toward the garden with a faraway look in his eyes. This seemed a perfect opportunity to go to the door and pull it open, after unlatching the lock. 

 

“Please. I am exhausted, and I would like to be on my way. If you could kindly get out. I’ll be hiring a caretaker, so I’m sure that they’ll be from around here. They’ll probably know you. It’s not like this place is very populated.” He sighed, motioning with one hand until Kylo slowly swished past him, moving light as a feather. Hux gave him a wave. “Goodbye, Kylo Ren. This will probably be the last time we meet.” 

 

“Will it be?” Kylo asked, giving him a puzzled look, and Hux didn’t have an answer to supply. Forgoing whatever manners he might have had on a better day, he simply swung the door shut and locked it again. Moving to the window, he looked out to see where Kylo might have wandered off to, to see which direction we went in. There was no one outside. Furrowing his brow, Hux went back to the door and opened it again. He stepped out onto the wet ground, looking about a few times. 

 

This didn’t make any sense. No one that large could disappear that quickly. His eyes scanned over the garden and eventually fell on a figure standing amongst the rows of leafy plants. He waved at Hux, and Hux merely stared back in abject confusion. He didn’t understand how Kylo kept flittering out his line of sight. Growing annoyed, he found himself marching toward him, wanting to chase the strange man completely off the property. However, when he neared him, Kylo dropped to his knees which made Hux putter to a stop and stare down at him. Kylo’s attention was on the plants, though. 

 

“Look,” he said, his deep voice radiating through the air, and Hux found himself obeying though he didn’t really want to look at plants. Bending down into a crouch, Hux looked at the green leaves in front of them. Kylo’s hands buried in the wet dirt, dark brown spilling over his pale hands, and he began to unearth the roots below. Pulling the plant up by the stem, Hux realized it was a potato plant and it was clearly fully grown and ready to be picked. Kylo’s hands clawed at the dirt and eventually, he was able to pluck two potatoes from the bunch, and he quickly shoved the dirt back over the rest. Holding them up in his wide palm, Kylo smiled at him brightly. “You have all you need to live here,” Kylo told him. “Sure, you’ll have to pull everything up before it begins to frost, but that should be another few weeks, yet.” 

 

“I don’t want to live here,” Hux said, and Kylo’s happy expression fell away. He held the potatoes in his hand, running his thumb over the dirty skins as if he were stroking and comforting them. Perhaps it was too comfort himself. “Why are you so entranced with the idea of me staying here?” Hux asked, sincere in his curiosity. 

 

“I don’t like change,” Kylo admitted. “Of all the people who’ve lived in that house, your mother was my favorite. She was kind to us, and when I showed up at her doorstep, she was always happy to speak to me, to feed me. I miss her.” His brows furrowed. “I don’t want a stranger to live here, no matter how well-meaning. The house is yours, and you should live in it. It’s what Ms. Quinn would have wanted.” 

 

“You understand that I haven’t talked to my mother since I was seven years old, right? She didn’t really even know me anymore. How do you know this is what she wanted?” 

 

“Because she told me.” Kylo’s dark eyes lifted, meeting with Hux’s. Kylo was a mess of unrestrained emotion, a total polar opposite to Hux who had been trained to keep himself together. Displays of emotions were like poison to his lips, and he didn’t know how to deal with his own, let alone someone else’s. Kylo’s eyes were nearly bleeding over with sadness, and Hux expected to see dripping tears soon enough. He would not be able to hold Kylo in the same way the strange man had done for him. “I wanted to be here for her last days, but I failed in that.” Kylo looked off, his head turned away, toward the Aspen tree on the edge of the property. Before the ground started sloping upwards toward the fields and the woods beyond. A soft wind blew through, lifting strands of Kylo’s hair and floating them around his face. 

 

Inhaling swiftly, Hux jerked and finally stood back up. He wiped a hand over his face, then just shuffled his feet in the dirt. “I need to get into town,” he said, looking away. “I have to go. I have to...I can’t be here anymore.” 

 

“There’s a bike in the storage shed,” Kylo said, not looking at him, and Hux’s gaze turned to look in the opposite direction. The sad excuse for a shed still stood, just out of eyeline of the back windows, and Hux sighed a little. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, then he turned and walked back into the house. He made sure all the lights were off, checked the locks, then he took his suitcase outside again and locked the back door. Turning, he saw that Kylo had disappeared again, though to where, he had no idea. And he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. 

 

Dragging the old, blue bike from the shed, Hux worked to strap his suitcase to the back of the bicycle. There was a small metal piece above the back wheel for this, and Hux found his suitcase just barely fit. He hadn’t ridden in years, and he felt wobbly as he climbed on. It didn’t help that this bike was clearly for someone much shorter than him. He rode off, getting onto the dirt road. He felt a bit ridiculous, but Hux supposed this was better than walking. And it was quicker, too. Eventually, the view of trees and fencing tapered off, and he started seeing the buildings of the town he’d stopped in the other day. 

 

Pulling over, Hux pulled his phone out of the suitcase, and he sat on the curb and tried to get a signal. Eventually, he gave up and went into the first store he saw in order to ask if he could use their phone to call the airport, or a cab, or the train station. He needed to get back to the airport. A small grocery store, the place felt almost familiar as he walked inside. The floors were linoleum and shiny for cleanliness, which was more than he could say for some of the places in London. He went to the customer service desk to ask to use their phone, and he was let behind the counter without too many questions. 

 

He had to look through a phonebook for the number to the airport, and as he did so, the shopgirl leaned on the counter a few feet away and fiddled with the lanyard and keychain around her neck. Hux glanced over, hearing the way the metal clinked together, and he paused when he saw the figurine hanging from the lanyard. It was a pretty fairy, with pink hair a green dress, sitting on a flower petal. 

 

“Do you believe in fairies?” he found himself asking, when he really should have kept his mouth shut. 

 

The girl looked at him, then down at her lanyard and back again, seemingly confused by the question until she realized that she was indeed wearing a fairy-likeness around her neck. She couldn’t be more than eighteen, and Hux really shouldn’t try and start this conversation, especially with the look she was giving him. As if he had come up with the worst pick-up line in the history of earth. He smiled, looking back down at the list of numbers, convinced that she probably won’t answer him. 

 

“Actually,” she said, and he caught the accent that she talked in. Local and thick, just like his mother’s. “I think most folk around here do. I can’t say that I blame them. The fae are known for their tricks, aren’t they? Mischievous?” 

 

“Yeah,” he said, standing up a bit straighter, and he motioned to her lanyard. “I saw you wearing that. I just...my mother always believed in fairies. She told me stories from the time I was a baby, and I’ve never really believed in them myself. I guess, I wanted to know if it was just her, or if everyone here shares in the superstition.” 

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it superstition, sir. More like faith.” She gripped the tiny figurine in her hand, and Hux couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. “People tell all sorts of stories about them. From moving coffee mugs, to shoes shined after dark, bags of sugar going missing from their houses. Some people say that the fae can come to you in different forms, sometimes looking like a normal person. And, if they like you, they’ll play with you and do you favors. But, if they don’t, then sometimes they’ll steal your things and put your fires out on cold, winter nights.” 

 

“My mother said all the same things,” he said. “I don’t know if I can really buy into all of that, though. I mean...I was raised on logic, not stories. I went to school, I went away...from here. I didn’t grow up in a tiny town, or a cottage, and I can’t really say that the stories jive with what I see outside places like this. Not any offense, but the world is bigger than just what you can see towards the horizon.” 

 

The girl gave him a nod, like she understood, and Hux looked down at the phone book, flipping the page again. He figured this was the end of the conversation, because it wasn’t like there was anything to say. Sure, he’d seen some strange things the last two days, but he wasn’t ready to abandon all logic for this. 

 

“The world may be bigger, but that doesn’t mean there’s less meaning in the small things.” Hux looked at the girl again as she spoke. “I don’t know if the stories are true. I’ve never seen a fairy. I only know what my mum, my grandmother, have told me. But I believe that they believe, and that does mean something to me. At least a little bit. I know that this place isn’t big or fancy, but sometimes it does feel magical. And it’s certainly quieter than the big city.” She looked at him with a smile, and Hux stared back at her. 

 

He shut the book. “You’re right,” he said, then looked around swiftly. “You’re right.” Leaving from behind the desk, he started slowly toward the doors. She watched him go curiously, but he paused and swung around again. Hurrying back further into the store, he picked up about a weeks worth of milk, meat, and some dried pasta, and he swung by the clothing section to pick up something he thought would fit Kylo Ren. Fairy or not, the guy could use some normal clothes. He checked out, then hurried back to his bike. Stuffing the white basket on the front full, he headed back toward his mother’s house, bike tires sloshing through the puddles on the way. He didn’t even care when his pants legs got wet or his boots ended up with mud splattered on them. 

 

He grabbed everything out of the basket when he parked the bike by the front door, then he quickly patted his pockets looking for the keys. Bustling in the front door, he immediately looked around for the mysterious man. Of course, he wasn’t there, and Hux felt almost ridiculous for thinking he would have been able to get in. Then again, locked doors hadn’t stopped him up to this point. Dropping everyone on the counter, Hux opened up the back door and yelled out. “Hey, Kylo! Kylo, come back! I’ve decided to stay!” He quickly put everything inside the fridge and straightened up again with a sigh, brushing his fingers over his forehead once. 

 

Turning around, he marched up the stairs with his suitcase, and he tossed it into the bedroom. Coming back downstairs, he met Kylo halfway down, the large man very suddenly blocking his exit. Sighing out through his nose, Hux straightened up. He was standing two steps above him, giving him the boost in height he’d wanted since the second they’d met. Kylo was looking up at him curiously, and Hux could see the beads of moisture in his hair. As if he’d been laying in the grass or something. Honestly, at this point, that wouldn’t surprise him. 

 

“I’m staying,” he blurted out, then tried on a smile. It sat wrong on his lips, an unusual expression for him. 

 

“You’re staying?” Kylo repeated back to him, his dark eyes scanning over Hux’s face. 

 

“Yes. For now. At least a week. Just to give myself time to think it over, I guess.” He made a worthless motion around the house. “I realized that...I was running from this. From my mother’s memory, from the things she believed, and what I didn’t want to believe. But, you’re right, she would have wanted me here.” 

 

Kylo nodded his head slowly, then gently lifted his hand and cupped it around Hux’s cheek. “You’re chilled,” he said softly. “Maybe you should start up a fire again.” 

 

“Whatever,” Hux said, knocking Kylo’s hand away gently. “Oh, but I got you something,” he said, pushing around the large man and bounding downstairs and back into the kitchen. He picked up the bag of clothes he’d bought, nearly jumping out of his skin when he turned to find Kylo directly behind him. The man truly was too quiet for his size; it was disconcerting. Shoving the bag into his chest, Hux said, “They’re clothes, for you. So you can wear something besides...that.” He didn’t know how to describe the sheer tunic-thing he wore, and Hux was just glad for the black tights underneath or else everything would be on display. 

 

“Thank you,” Kylo said, and Hux watched as he held the bag close to himself before backing away uncertainty. 

 

“You can change in the bathroom. If you want.” 

 

“Ah, yeah….” 

 

Kylo left up the stairs, and Hux worked on sliding some small logs into the fireplace to start up a blaze again. He struck a match and watched as the flames caught and began to spread and grow, until an orange glow covered everything in the room. He stood up slowly, walking to the shelves lining the wall, looking over the spines of books and letting his fingers run across them. There was a thin layer of dust, and he would need to clean up a bit. However, he eventually found himself staring at a picture in a silver frame. The face of a small, ginger child stared up toward the unseen camera person, prominently missing both front teeth. Hux picked it up, examining the photo for a moment. He’d been a much happier child, all things considered, before he’d been taken away from here. 

 

“I’m back,” Kylo said, making Hux flinch a bit. 

 

“You should be a spy. No one would ever hear you coming,” Hux replied, placing the picture back on the shelf, turning to look at Kylo. The shirt fit him well, but the pants flooded terribly, too short for his long legs. Hux looked him over once before giving him a nod. 

 

“Why the change of heart?” Kylo asked, and Hux shrugged his shoulders in a non-committal manner. He continued walking along the shelves, tugging out an old book and smoothing dust off the cover with one hand. “Hux?” 

 

“I saw a girl in the market, just completely accepting the beliefs of her elders, seeing them in a light that was...beautiful rather than embarrassing.” Hux opened up the book and walked to the couch, sitting down. He inhaled the scent of the pages, the musk of a well-read tome. “Maybe it was my father’s toxicity that ruined me, but I do remember there was always something magical about this place. Something wildly untameable.” He tapped the cover of the book. “Did you ever talk with my mother about her favorite book?” 

 

“No.” Kylo slowly walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning back on the arm with his legs pulled up under him. With his damp curls and shadows cast in the plains of his face, Kylo looked like some sort of character out of classic literature. Perhaps a Rochester in his own right, dark and brooding. But his eyes were far too youthful to be taken seriously, always looking just a touch damp. His emotions were never shrouded as a true Gothic hero’s should be. 

 

“ _Jane Eyre_ ,” he said, lifting the book and turning the pages out for Kylo to see. “I think the only book she might have liked as much was _Great Expectations_ , but there was something very special to her in this book. I never really understood it. I preferred the likes of _Treasure Island_ or _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_...you know, something with a little bit of action in it. But, now, I think I get it.” He smiled. “She used to read to me every night before bed, just a chapter. Two if I’d been good. I remember this book, because we read it a lot.” 

 

Kylo’s lips were smiling now, and Hux felt himself burning up with embarrassment, but he didn’t want to back down now. He wasn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable, and this wasn’t something that he would consider easy. He stared down at the page, looking at the curling letters that announced the first chapter, and his eyes grew a touch misty. “Why don’t you read me some?” Kylo asked, his deep voice as soft as a flower petal brushing his ears. “Just a chapter.” 

 

“Alright,” he said, softly, looking down at the words. Reaching up, Hux wiped at his eyes before more embarrassing tears would fall. If his father could see him now, he’d be even more disappointed in him. But...no, Hux didn’t want to think of his father, just his mother. Her memory. This place didn’t deserve to be stained with thoughts of Brendol Hux or his whipping belt. He started to read. 

 

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was out of the question. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.” 

 

Hux’s voice was quiet, but steady, and it easily carried the short distance between them. With Kylo lounging his head on the back of the couch and listening to the story, Hux could always feel those dark eyes on him, studying him as he read from the tome. The words, though he hadn’t heard them since his school days, were familiar to him. As if their essence had bled into the walls, the memory of his mother keeping them alive. A whisper behind each of his breaths where he could almost hear his mother repeating the sentences behind him, an echo on his voice that existed solely in his mind. 

 

“‘Take her away to the red-room, and lock her in there.’ Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.” He finished the chapter some incalculable amount of time later, and Hux slowly turned his head to fix his eyes to Kylo’s face. They were in a bubble of their own, existing outside the constraints of normal boundaries, and Hux could feel the rhythm of his heart, almost beating in time to the cadence of the words he’d just read. Kylo watched him, an impercitable joy on his face, though restrained, and once Hux closed the book, the odd character lifted his head and smiled. 

 

“You’re a good reader,” he said, softly. “But you left us off on a really good part. Maybe you should keep going.” 

 

Hux chuckled. “My mother always used to say, that leaves you ready for more tomorrow night.” 

 

“Do you want me to stick around that long?”

 

Hux thought about it for a moment, his mouth pursed tightly together. A day ago, he would have gladly told Kylo to run toward the hills, never to be seen again. But now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted him to go. It would be lonely, out here by himself in the Irish countryside, and sure, he had come to be alone and commiserate the death of his mother, but mourning did not necessarily have to be done alone. And Kylo seemed genuinely upset at her passing as well. “Yes,” he said, finally. “I would like that. How’s your arm?” 

 

Kylo looked down at the sling, then he slowly pulled the strap from around his head and stretched the arm out. He spread his fingers wide, then pulled them back in against his palm a few times, testing. Hux was struck by how large his hands were, and surprised once more by how such a large man could be downright delicate and dainty at times. 

 

“I think it’s fine.” He left the sling on the arm of the couch, forgotten, then slowly shifted closer to Hux across the couch. Watching Kylo, Hux found that he was nearly transfixed by his movements. He was fluid and graceful, and Hux barely noticed the hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He didn’t expect the lips on his until they were there, and he dropped the book in surprise. But, really, he didn’t particularly mind, and he found himself kissing back despite any sort of logic telling him not to. 

 

Lifting a hand, Hux pressed a palm to Kylo’s chest and pushed him back. They parted, and Hux was slightly out of breath despite himself. He was struck by just how long it had been since he’d kissed anyone. “Why?” he asked, looking Kylo over in confusion. 

 

“You...looked like you needed it,” Kylo said to him, and it made Hux shift uncomfortably. However, when their lips connected again, he wasn’t sure either of them had truly planned for it. 

 

It became apparent to him that Kylo was not experienced with this, nor was he shy, which led to his lips moving in ways that Hux did not expect. Eventually, one of Kylo’s large hands cupped the back of his head, and Hux could do nothing but lean forward. Eventually, Kylo’s back hit the couch cushions, and Hux leaned over him, their chests pressed together. He didn’t know what he was doing, or if it even made sense, but Hux didn’t want to stop. When he did have to break away for air, Hux felt the need to keep touching. His fingers trailed long lines down Kylo’s throat, then stroked through the dark strands of hair that spread out under his head. 

 

“Do I still look like I need it?” he asked, softly. 

 

“Yes,” Kylo replied again, his lips swollen and red. “But, what do I know, really? You humans have always baffled me.” 

 

“You humans,” Hux repeated, shaking his head a bit. “You’re really sticking with that fairy story, aren’t you?” 

 

“It’s not a story.” 

 

“Of course not.” Whether or not Hux believed it, Kylo was dedicated to the idea, and he really didn’t want to ruin the mood. He stroked Kylo’s cheek with the back of his hand, curiously smiling down at him. “Well, inexperienced as you are, I think your exuberance can be tamed, if you’ll let me.” 

 

“You can teach me how to kiss if I can teach you how to garden.” 

 

“Do you have a bit of a green thumb, Kylo?” 

 

“Yes. Very much so.” 

 

Hux smiled, and he leaned back in, moving up so he could straddling Kylo’s hips. Their kisses grew slightly more heated, the pass of tongues and lingering touches that seemed to warm the skin. Hux eventually guided one of those large hands to his side, letting it slip under his shirt, and he found himself trying to pull the thin fabric of Kylo’s borrowed shirt up as well. 

 

Hux wasn’t sure how long they spent, lips connected, the time ticking by unheeded. He knew that Kylo’s hands eventually got braver, and his lips a bit more coordinated, but there was an eagerness to the man that had Hux turning to putty over him. Eventually, their lips parted for the final time, and Hux stared down at Kylo with a haze over his vision. Their heated breaths warmed the air between them. The fireplace was burning low, smoldering ashes, mainly. 

 

“You’re not half bad at this,” he whispered, not wanting to speak loudly enough to break the spell. There was a mood over them, Hux’s body lying against Kylo’s chest, hands roaming up his back. 

 

“I’ve never kissed a human before.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Yes, really. I never have.” 

 

Interest piqued, Hux gently started twirling a strand of Kylo’s hair around his finger. He watched him, staring at his face in the lowlight. Kylo was beautiful in every way, and it was a surprise to him that he’d never found someone willing to be with him, even out here in this rural area. “How old are you, Kylo?” 

 

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Kylo’s head tilted away from him, staring up toward the ceiling. Hux watched his profile, wanting to reach out and trace his features, though he didn’t. “Around a thousand, I think. My mother could probably give a more thorough answer. I’m young...compared to most of my people.” 

 

“Your people,” Hux said, lifting a brow. 

 

“Yes. Other fae.” 

 

“Right.” Hux sighed, then he slowly sat up, holding himself up with one arm before he unstraddled Kylo and stood up. “I’m going up to bed,” he said, smoothing his shirt down. “You can stay on the couch, if you like. If not, put out of the fire before you leave.” There really wasn’t much of a fire left to put out, he supposed. 

 

“You aren’t going to take me to bed?” Kylo sat up as well, and Hux felt those large hands guiding him back toward the couch. They sat on his hips almost perfectly, and Hux slowly slotted his fingers between Kylo’s and lifted his hands away from his body. “Did I say something wrong?” Eyes were gazing up at him, and without the bright light from the fireplace warming the room, they seemed almost midnight black. The honeyed tones didn’t show from the darker browns, and they all melted together and blended with his dark pupils. 

 

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong. Not anything.” Hux held onto Kylo’s hands as he thought. “But it’s late, and I...I barely know you. Besides, if you really are a fae, don’t I have to worry about you playing some sort of trick on me?” 

 

Kylo’s lips smiled, but the expression didn’t seem to touch his eyes. “I wouldn’t. Not to you, not anymore, I don’t think. Besides, I don’t want to stay on my own.” 

 

Hux squeezed Kylo’s hands gently, then he glanced toward the stairs for a moment. “Well...I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you just came up to sleep with me,” he said, softly. It was a bit more intimate than he was used to, sharing a bed. But Kylo seemed downtrodden, and he didn’t want to leave him here. Hurting the man’s feelings hadn’t been his intention, really, with this makeout session. Escalating it had been on the table, but that didn’t seem to be what Kylo wanted any more than him. 

 

“I’d like that.” This smile was fuller, and Kylo stood up to his full height again. Hux leaned back away from him, looking up, and he found their lips pressed together again. Really, Kylo was affectionate, and it was flattering. Hux didn’t know how to respond to such kindness, if it even was that. He was used to one night stands that left right after, not kissing on a couch in front of a fireplace like a damn scene in a romance novel. 

 

Hux reached down and he picked up the book, returning it to the shelf. Turning, he realized Kylo was already halfway up the stairs, without ever making a sound. Hux huffed and followed after him. He abandoned his shoes by the door, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off before he slid into bed. Kylo blundered in next to him, still wearing everything Hux had bought for him. He decided not to make a big deal out of it, allowing Kylo to snuggle to his chest and wrap those thick arms around his waist to hold onto him. 

 

“Good night, Hux,” the odd man said, and Hux smiled in response. 

 

“Good night, Kylo.” 

 

* * *

  
  


If someone had told him three months ago that he would be back in his mother’s garden, with dirt up to his elbows, Hux would have called them a loon. He hadn’t gotten his fingers in the dirt for a long time, and he found that the memory didn’t retain well. Kylo was several rows over, harvesting up some beets and laying them in a bag to be cleaned later, and Hux was still on his first potato plant, chopping away at the roots. He let out an angry grunt with each swing of the shovel head, and eventually Kylo took notice of his struggle. He was still wearing the clothes Hux bought for him several days later, and he looked charming and soft in them. His hair was pulled back, and he had dirt on him same as Hux did. However, where Hux looked like a dirty orphan child, Kylo looked charming and rustic and handsome. 

 

“You’ll kill the plant if you keep at that,” he said, stepping over the rows and bending down to help. “You should be more gentle with the plant. They are your lifeblood and connection to the earth.” 

 

“Next you’ll be telling me that I’m hurting their feelings,” Hux snapped, and Kylo laughed at him. Large hands were on his, suddenly, guiding him to properly break the small potatoes away from the roots and place them in his own bag. 

 

They’d been working all day, and Hux couldn’t honestly say that it was worthless work. Already, they were stockpiling enough for the winter, and Kylo had assured him that there were ways to make these keep until they were needed. Hux hadn’t figured out if he were talking practically or if he was apparently going to display some of that fairy magic he went on and on about. Still no proof of it, he thought. 

 

They worked, at least for another hour, and with bags full of vegetables needing to be cleaned, they headed back toward the house. Hux paused at the back door. He’d heard something. Kylo was already dumping his bags out on the counter inside, but Hux turned out toward the garden. He heard it again. A small, high sound. “Kylo? Do you hear that?” he asked, softly. 

 

“Hear what?” Kylo poked his head out of the door, and Hux shushed him. After a second, he heard the small sound again, coming from out toward the shed where they had just abandoned all their gardening tools. Hux slowly started walking in its direction, looking down at the ground until he spotted a small fluff of orange fuzz that was hidden away in the grass around the edges of the shed. 

 

Bending down, Hux lifted the kitten from the grass and cupped it’s small body in one hand as he smoothed his fingers atop its tiny head. Clearly, the kitten was old enough to be without a mother, or else it probably wouldn’t have survived this long, but it was very small and skinny. Hux stood up, turning to find Kylo directly behind him. He held the kitten to his chest, remembering his father’s harsh words to him the first time he’d found a cat and brought it home. _‘Let the thing die or live on its own, Armitage. You are not a caregiver to a disgusting animal.’_

 

“I’m going to bring it inside,” he said, as if he was ready to fight Kylo about it. As if the house wasn’t his, or Kylo had any say in what he did. “We need to get some kitten food or something, I think. Maybe see if there’s a vet’s office nearby.” 

 

“Okay.” Kylo followed him back into the house, and Hux plopped the kitten down on the counter amid the vegetables that had already been unloaded. It stood up and meowed loudly, taking a broad stance with its skinny tail straight up in the air. Kylo sat down at the counter and placed his head on the flat surface, watching the kitten with nothing but curiosity in his eyes. Hux dug through the fridge for anything that he thought a kitten might be able to eat, coming up empty-handed with a sigh. 

 

However, when he turned around, he saw the kitten plodding her way over to Kylo. And she slowly clambered up his face, using his substantial nose as a ladder, and she settled atop his head. Kylo stayed perfectly still for all of this, giving a kitten his hair as a bed. And she did sleep, after letting out a monumentally large yawn for a her tiny body. Hux found himself smiling despite himself. He’d been doing more and more of that these days. 

 

“And exactly how long do you plan to stay like that?” he asked, honestly, reaching up a bit self-consciously to cover the surely awkward smile. 

 

“As long as I have to,” Kylo replied, and he seemed so soft and precious, and Hux dropped his hand and let his smile show through. 

 

“I need to go to town and buy cat food before it gets dark,” he said, softly. 

 

“Okay. I’ll be here.” 

 

Hux wasn’t sure if he meant here, as in this exact same position, but it would hilarious if he was. Hux quickly went and grabbed his jacket and he slipped it on as he carefully walked through the house and to the door. The bike was still parked under the awning at the front of the house, and he rolled it out toward the road. Deftly avoiding mud puddles, he rode toward town on a route that was familiar to him by this point. 

 

The trip was quick, and he didn’t dawdle and try to talk to anyone. The townsfolk were friendly, and they welcomed his presence as if he’d been there his whole life, but he wasn’t particularly sure how long this stay would last. He didn’t plan to leave until after winter, but by then...well, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He returned to the cottage as the last rays of sun slipped over the horizon, leaving trails of pink across the quickly darkening sky above him. With his bag, he headed instead and stamped his boots on the welcome mat. 

 

“I’m home,” he called, walking through the living room and toward the kitchen. He was surprised to find that Kylo was indeed exactly where he’d left him, and the kitten was still curled up amidst the dark curls that framed his face. Circling around, Hux found that Kylo was not only still, he was sound asleep. The counter was still littered with the vegetables they’d collected, needing to be washed and stored, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He pulled a bowl from the shelves and filled it with some food for the kitten. 

 

He heard a soft, little yawn and turned his head to see the little creature lifting her head to look at him. “Hello,” he whispered, then smiled as she clambered down from on top of Kylo’s head and navigated the obstacle course of vegetables to get to him. He put the food bowl in front of her and watched as she immediately set to eat it up. Leaving her be, he circled around the counter and pressed a kiss to the top of Kylo’s curls. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’ve still got to put away our harvest.” 

 

“Harvest…” Kylo lifted his head slowly and looked around briefly before smiling at Hux. They shared a soft kiss, and Hux gently coaxed Kylo up off the stool. “Right. When’d you get back?” Kylo wrapped his arms around Hux’s neck and lured him back into another kiss. Hux couldn’t even pull away, the draw was too much. He would happily stand here kissing Kylo all evening if he wasn’t so anxious about getting the vegetables washed and put away. And they needed to get a bed ready for the kitten. And name her. 

 

“Okay, okay,” he said, dragging himself away from Kylo, laughing softly and breathlessly. It was hard to get away from the clingy man sometimes, not that Hux particularly minded most of the time. Their midnight makeout sessions were truly something to behold, especially when he woke to lips on his jawline and a sneaking hand on his side. Waking in the middle of the night for feverish kissing before falling back to unconsciousness again was nice in a way Hux had never thought it could be. “I just got here, and we need to clean up, maybe make some of these into dinner?” 

 

“Right.” Kylo slipped around him and headed to the sink, turning the water on and letting it warm as he got a strainer to fill up with the fresh vegetables. Hux watched him for a moment, then went and gently bumped Kylo over with his hip so he could take his place at the sink. He wanted to learn, and was willing to let Kylo talk him through everything. 

 

“What should we name our kitten?” he asked, as he started on the potatoes, scrubbing them clean and rinsing them before he set them in on the clean towel laid out by the sink. 

 

“She’s ours?” Kylo asked, softly, his voice right in Hux’s ear from the place he was standing. Kylo’s chin rested heavily on Hux’s shoulder, but he didn’t mind. 

 

“Of course. I mean, if you want her to be.” Hux felt his face flushing, and he nearly tried to hide in his shirt from how ridiculous that was. To think, he was a grown man blushing over the idea of sharing cat care duties. “But, either way, she needs a name.” 

 

“Fluffy.” 

 

“No!” Hux splashed Kylo with water, scandalized by such a ridiculous suggestion. Kylo jumped back, rubbing at the water droplets off his shirt. 

 

“Lady Fluffypants.” 

 

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, then you don’t get to have a say in it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you were smart about names, what with a name like Kylo that’s clearly made up.” 

 

“It’s not my given name, no.” Kylo gave him a pout, and Hux just smiled and shook his head. 

 

“It suits you, though. So what kind of name would suit our kitten?” 

 

“What about your mother’s name?” 

 

Hux paused, staring down at the onion in his hand, holding onto it as he turned it round and looked it over curiously. “Millicent?” he asked, softly. 

 

“We could call her Millie for short.” 

 

Hux didn’t respond right away, his voice lost to him as he considered. He remembered his mother’s hands, doing the same task he was set to now. Her brisk and sure movements as she cleaned and stored the vegetables from the garden. And she’d be talking the entire time, voice quick with wit and importance. Armitage had hung on every word, as a child. He’d sat on those very stools, coloring a picture or helping her sort things into containers. She’d always be talking, though. Telling stories, fairy tales, talking about the townsfolk and whatever funny thing they’d been doing. It had been nice 

 

“I’m sorry. No, I shouldn’t have said that. What about Whiskers or something.” Kylo was stuttering over himself, trying to recover from whatever damage he’d thought he’d inflicted, and Hux dropped the onion and turned to look at him. 

 

“Millicent is perfect,” he said, slowly, then he walked closer to him and leaned up to get another kiss. His hands were wet, but he still cupped Kylo’s face gently and pressed deeper into the kiss. Hux felt large arms around his waist, drawing him closer, and he went easily and dragged Kylo’s face down closer to him. Their kissing was eventually interrupted by a shrill meow, and Hux laughed as Kylo pulled away from him and lifted the kitten off the counter. He came closer again, and Hux wrapped his arms around both of them. 

 

“If...if we have a cat together now,” Kylo said, his face downcast and shy, looking at the kitten rather than at Hux. “Does that mean you’re going to stay forever?” 

 

Hux blinked, then began to stroke his fingers gently atop Millie’s soft head, feeling her fur and enjoying the soft vibrations of her purrs. “I suppose I am. I mean...I never thought I’d be staying here, but…” He looked up again, then quickly tilted Kylo’s face up so he could look into his eyes. Kylo’s eyes were dark and delicious, with sparks of lighter brown like honeysuckle, and they seemed to weep with emotion, whether it was happiness, disappointment, fear, or hope. And he looked so hopeful, right now. “I’ve never been happier than here...and strangely enough, I think you’re a big reason why.” 

 

Kylo smiled at him, then leaned in and stole another kiss, which Hux was happy to give to him anyway. Millicent let out another meow, reaching up with her paws and batting at their chins until they parted ways again. “I’m going to take her upstairs and get a bed ready for her,” Kylo said, softly. His voice wasn’t loud, muted and quiet, and he had a happy smile on his lips. 

 

“Okay. I think there’s a basket in my mother’s closet you can use,” Hux said, and he stepped away from them. “I’m going to finish up here and then I’ll join you upstairs. We can read a little before bed.” They were about seven chapters in Jane Eyre and Kylo was enraptured by it, always snuggled up to Hux as he read and listening to the story unfold. He was a good listener, Hux found, and he enjoyed reading to him. 

 

Kylo circled the counter and went for the stairs. Hux turned back to the sink, picking up the vegetables again to finish cleaning them off. 

 

“Don’t forget to leave the sugar bowl out!” Kylo called down to him, and Hux smiled to himself. 

 

When he finished up, the kitchen clean, counter wiped down, and their store of vegetables in the pantry or refrigerator, he turned and pulled the sugar bowl down from its place on the shelf. He put in the sugar and filled it up with water, using it finger to give it a stir, and he set it outside on the windowsill with a smile. 

 

Hux looked out over the garden, toward the tree, and he imagined that this was one of the last sights his mother had ever seen. She’d been alone, but hadn’t been taken away from her home. And, perhaps he hadn’t been there, but he was now. Living the way she’d wanted him to from the beginning. He’d make it up for her someday, even if it meant becoming a rural farmer and telling fairy tales to the kids in the town when he went for a visit. 

 

As he went to close the window, Hux saw something shimmering out of the corner of his eye. Leaning back out the window, he watched as something small and blue moved across the garden and out of sight. He rubbed at his eyes, then looked again, seeing nothing. Of course, he saw nothing. He shut the window slowly and rubbed his hands along his arms. Fairies weren’t real, except when they were, and he heard Kylo’s soft voice as he made his way up the stairs, baby-talking to their kitten. 

 

There was magic here, in the land and in the air, and Hux would never be sure if it was real or imaginary. But whether or not he believed didn’t matter, because he knew there was power in faith and tradition. That’s all that mattered now, in keeping his mother’s spirit alive and infused into the house. He had Kylo, and little Millie to take care of, and a house to oversee, a garden to tend, and himself to mend. That’s all a man could really ask for, and happiness seemed real and tangible for the first time since he’d been a child, sitting in the kitchen and listening to his mother’s fairy tales.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wanted my gift to be something different, but still enjoyable. I hope you like it!


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